


The Will of the Force

by OrmondSacker



Series: The Jedhan Diaspora Series [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Diaspora, Genocide, Guilt, M/M, Religion, Religious Teachings, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: Training as a Disciple of the Whills was at the same time exactly as Bodhi had thought it would be and yet not at all. But though he enjoys Chirrut's teachings he finds he has one great stumbling block to his progress.





	The Will of the Force

Training as a Disciple of the Whills is both exactly what Bodhi expected it to be and at the same time nothing at all like he had thought. 

The physical parts are mostly among the former. While the Guardians were the martial aspect of the Order of the Whills he had correctly assumed that even the Disciples would be taught how to defend themselves if nothing else, so the weapons practice and hand-to-hand training is no surprise and he find that part far more enjoyable than he had thought he would.  

The dancing is unexpected, though equally enjoyable. In retrospect Bodhi thinks it makes sense when put together with the songs. 

He does have vague childhood memories of the Order of the Whills. Nothing coherent, mostly just the sight of them, their red and black garb. Certainly nothing about them singing or dancing. It makes him sad when he realizes how integral a part of the teachings of the Whills those two things are, that the Empire robbed them of it. Robbed all of Jedha of it. And it makes him all the more determined to learn everything Chirrut has to teach him. 

But he finds that he has one great stumbling block in learning. It's not the singing, though he doesn't have the galaxy's best voice for it in his own opinion. Nor is it the many languages used, it helps him remember much of what he has forgotten about how they are spoken. No, his problem is far more fundamental. Which is why he seeks out his teacher late one afternoon, at a time where he knows Chirrut will be done with instructing new recruits in hand to hand combat. 

The gymnasium is empty as he thought it would be, except for Chirrut who's tidying, moving away the sparring dummies. 

"Can we talk?" Bodhi asks as he draws near to Chirrut. 

"If you help me put these away," Chirrut answers, indicating the training dummies. 

"Sure." 

A few months ago, lifting one of these would have been a strain, but while Bodhi still finds the dummy unwieldy, its weight doesn't encumber him now. 

"What is so important that it could not wait until our next lesson and so private it couldn't be addressed at dinner?" 

"It could wait I suppose, but... every lesson I've meant to bring it up but I keep putting it off." 

"Why?" 

"It's a little hard for me to put into words and we're always so busy during lessons." Their respective duties to the Rebellion leaves little time for what would under ordinary circumstances be a full-time study. 

Chirrut puts down the dummy he's carrying in its proper place and turns to Bodhi. 

"I'm listening," he says. 

Bodhi puts the dummy he was carrying down next to Chirrut's a draws a deep breath. 

"I'm not sure I believe in the Force." 

His words earns him an incredulous stare from Chirrut. 

"I mean, I believe it exists." Anything else would be ridiculous. He has felt it, like air and sun light, like the whispers of the wind rising from the desert. Just because he can hold none of them in his hands he's not about to claim they don't exist when he can sense their effects.  

No it is not the  _existence_  of the Force he doubts. If that was all this conversation would have been easier. Instead he struggles to find the courage to say what he needs because he knows his words will be a direct attack on Chirrut's convictions and he isn't sure how his teacher will take it. 

Still, the words must be said. 

"I'm not sure I trust it." 

There, it is said. 

Chirrut goes very still, not just his body but everything about him stops moving, like a song cut off. 

"What about it is it that you do not trust?" 

"How... can I have faith in its benevolence, feel certain about its guidance... when it is willing to let millions of people die and do nothing to stop it?" The words spill out of him, hastily and spoken too loudly so that the silence when he stops almost makes his ears ring. 

Chirrut says nothing, but nods and holds out a hand. Bodhi takes it and Chirrut guides them to one of the sparring mats, indicating that he should sit. When he does Chirrut sits down cross legged opposite him. 

"Do you know that the Force did nothing?" Chirrut asks. 

"Well it didn't work if it did, did it?" 

"So you equate lack of result with lack of action?" 

"So instead of uncaring it's just inept?" The words come out much angrier than he mean them to, an accusation instead of a question. 

"Do  _you_ always succeed when you do something?" 

"I'm just human, not a cosmic force made of all living things. And isn't everything as the Force wills it?" 

Chirrut goes still again at Bodhi's words and Bodhi wishes he could bite off his tongue. He doesn't want this to become a fight, but his anger – the one that has been boiling in him since Jedha – is constantly threatening to get away from him. He can feel it seethe and roil in his heart, under his skin, gnawing at everything. 

"You are angry." Chirrut's quiet statement of the absolutely obvious, is a spark that makes Bodhi's temper flare hotter. He leaps to his feet and start pacing. 

"Yes, I'm angry.  _Why_  did this happen? Jedha, Alderaan. Who knows how many other planets would have been destroyed if we  _hadn't helped stop it!_ " His voice keeps rising until he's shouting, through it all Chirrut sits quietly, hands on his knees. 

"And yet the Death Star was stopped," Chirrut points out. 

"You're saying that's the Force's doing? You sure is letting it off the hook easily." 

"What is it?" 

Bodhi stops his pacing and looks at Chirrut. 

"What do you mean?" 

"What is the Force?" 

"Are we going to have a lesson  _now_?" 

"No, I'm asking you to remember what you've already learned." 

Bodhi sighs, suddenly feeling very tired but decides to go with it. He did come here for answers after all. 

"It's... life, made of life. It's the voice of the world. No, the Whills is the voice of the Force and the Force is the soul of the world." 

"And what does that mean?" 

Bodhi huffs. 

"What does this have to do with my question?" 

"Everything." 

"It means... that we're all beings of the Force, that it moves through us." 

"And may move us if we listen." 

"So, it happened because no one listened?" 

"You listened," Chirrut says quietly. 

Bodhi feels like he's been punched, the old guilt, that if he had done more, earlier, something, anything different, things would have turned out different, rears its head. 

"Much good that did," he answers hoarsely. 

Chirrut stands, walks to him and takes his hands in his own. Bodhi tries to pull away, but Chirrut holds firm. 

"It did. Had you not listened the Alliance would never have received Galen Erso's message, would not have known about the flaw in the Death Star's reactor and had no chance to destroy it." 

"And for that to happen Jedha had to be destroyed?" 

"Had to? No. But not all beings listen, some turn their ears and hearts from world and hear only themselves. They act, not for others, but for their own benefit alone." 

"So all of this happened because some people don't listen." His voice is for more sarcastic than he means it to. 

"Or listened too late for it to be otherwise." 

Bodhi jerks at those words, his heart clenching. 

"Galen Erso might have chosen differently, or acted more quickly and things would have been different then too," Chirrut continues. 

Bodhi shakes his head vehemently, not in denial but in lack of acceptance. But before he can say anything Baze's voice interrupts them from the door. 

"The Force cannot act for us, it can only act through us," he says as he takes Chirrut's staff that is leaning against the wall next to the door and starts walking towards them. 

His sudden appearance makes both Bodhi and Chirrut jump. 

"The sage Aasira, twelfth century before the Treaty of Coruscant," Baze finishes, holding out the staff to Chirrut. 

"A wise woman," Chirrut says accepting it. Bodhi isn't sure if he's imagining it or not, but it looks to him as if Chirrut hesitates before taking the staff. 

Baze is dressed much as Bodhi, in black shirt and pants which are the stables of off-duty Rebellion staff, but Bodhi notices that he's wearing a scarlet sash around his waist, the same that Chirrut now wears in lieu of the red  _antaravasaka_  that was destroyed along with his  _kasaya_ on Scarif. It makes him look similar to Chirrut in appearance. 

"What are you doing here?" Chirrut asks. 

"I came to talk to you," Baze replies. "I thought it was time I took a hand in Bodhi's training. Past time if the discussion I walked in on is any indication." 

"Don't make him feel guilty for asking questions." There seems to be the ring of steel in Chirrut's voice to Bodhi's ears. 

Bodhi is torn between asking them to stop talking like he isn't there and telling them that he's leaving so they can talk privately, but before he can speak Baze looks away from Chirrut for a moment and catches Bodhi's gaze sending the silent message that he should stay. Then Baze looks back at Chirrut. 

"There is a difference between asking and quarreling." The words make Bodhi squirm. "But my point was that you are not alone, Chirrut. I am a Guardian too." 

Chirrut blinks once and Bodhi sees his grip on his staff falter for a moment. 

"It has been a long time since you called yourself that last." Chirrut's voice has gone hoarse. 

"It has. But I cannot deny my past,  _o_ _ur_  past, or let the knowledge I carry be lost." Baze reaches out and puts a hand on Chirrut's shoulder. 

"Baze, you don't have to do this." 

"On the contrary, I do. And hearing the discussion you and Bodhi were having, I have to more than before." Chirrut looks about to say something, but Baze presses on and he falls silent. "Bodhi, if you think being older means having all the answers then I'm afraid both Chirrut and I have to disappoint you." He sighs. "I have a story to tell you, but I would rather do so in private. Can we move this discussion to mine and Chirrut's room?" 

Bodhi nods. "Okay." 

"Chirrut?" 

Chirrut simply nods. Bodhi can't quite read the expression on his face.  

Baze gently takes Chirrut's arm, indicating to Bodhi that he should follow. Chirrut puts a hand on the small of Baze's back and stops. 

"You're wearing a scarf?" 

"Yes." 

"Is it red?" 

"It is," Baze confirms. 

"I see," is Chirrut's only answer. 

 

**oOoOo**

 

Baze's and Chirrut's room is a little smaller than the one Bodhi shares with Cassian, but not by much. And like theirs it has a bed on one side, a table with chairs below the window and across from the door, and a dresser for clothes opposite the bed. 

Baze indicates that Bodhi should sit on one of the chairs. Chirrut takes up position on the foot end of the bed, sitting cross legged, staff resting on his knees. 

Baze perches himself on the edge of the table, clearly mulling over his words before beginning. 

"I spent a lot of years disbelieving the Force. Still not sure it exists or if I'm imagining it. I know what I saw the Jedi do during the war, but..." Baze sighs. "That's neither here nor there. Either way, I came to the conclusion that the Force could not be trusted. So I didn't. And I'm still not sure I do." 

"And yet you now dress like a Guardian," Chirrut observes. 

"I do." 

"What happened?" Bodhi asks. 

"Scarif. And the destruction of Jedha." 

Bodhi and Chirrut waits in silence for Baze to continue. Baze folds his arms over his chest and leans back, staring at the ceiling. The table creaks under his shifting weight. 

"I'm not sure what happened on Scarif, why things were different form me. Why I suddenly decided to listen to the Force after all those years. I've been thinking about it a lot. Maybe it was losing Jedha." His voice cracks as he speaks those words. "As long as Jedha still was, as long as the Holy City still stood I could pretend that the past was only the past, that it didn't follow me wherever I went. Could tell myself that it wasn't important, that the traditions didn't matter. But they do and I carry my past, my training, all that I was taught with me. It felt like time I paid it heed once more. So I listened." 

"And the Force told you to run into an open battlefield and tackle me?" Chirrut says. 

"Had I not tackled you, those exploding barrels might have killed you." 

"Perhaps." 

Baze nods. 

"Perhaps," he agrees. "I still don't know if my actions made any difference, perhaps we would all have lived regardless. Perhaps I only imagined that the Force was speaking to me. But regardless, I cannot deny what I was. And still am." 

He sighs, pushes off the table and turns to Bodhi. 

"No one can tell you whether you can trust the Force or not, Bodhi. That is something you have to decide for yourself. When, or even if, to accept the guidance. To act on what you hear." 

Chirrut shifts on the bed. 

"Chirrut, I know you want to help him, but with this question you can't." 

"It is a teacher's task to instruct, guide and offer assistance," Chirrut replies sharply. 

"Please don't fight over me," Bodhi says.  

He has a terrible feeling of a child who's started a fight between his parents. An odd one, given that he only had his mother growing up, there never were two parents to fight over him. And neither of the Guardians can be said to be his father. 

Baze drops a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

"We're not fighting over you. Chirrut, you're taking on a task that isn't yours. Bodhi is not a child arrived at the temple for instructions. He's a grown man, you cannot carry this burden for him." Baze leaves Bodhi's side and walks to the bed to sit beside Chirrut. He reaches out and puts one hand on top of the one Chirrut has resting on his left knee. "Anymore than you could carry it for me, though I know you tried." 

Chirrut goes very still, Bodhi can barely see his chest move as he breathed. Everything feels wrong, off kilter to Bodhi, like a ship with the stabilizers shot, and he feels like he can't breathe, a weight settling on his chest. 

Closing his eyes, Bodhi opens himself and listens the way Chirrut has instructed him. 

 _There is stillness, the soft, calm whisper of the nightly desert breeze. But the quiet is torn by sharp, harsh sobs, like those of a confused, heartbroken child._  

Jarred Bodhi opens his eyes, trying to make sense of what he just experienced. He looks at the two men sitting on the bed. Baze is sitting quiet and relaxed, his shoulders loose. Chirrut too is still, but his hands are gripping his staff hard enough that the knuckles are growing pale. 

Baze turns his gaze to Bodhi again. 

"But the Order of the Whills was always about more that the Force. We were the guardians and listeners of the Kyber, but we were also the stewards of Jedha. Not its rulers, but the custodians of its traditions, the protectors that safeguarded its people right to practice and worship as they wished in peace." 

"Tasks we all failed in," Chirrut says so softly Bodhi almost can't make out what he says. 

"No." The word slips past Bodhi's lips without him even thinking. "Jedha is  _not_  gone. We are still here and there are other Jedhans out there. Communities settled long before the Empire rose and took over our home, people who found... work off planet, people who fled over the years. We all carry Jedha with us and Jedha won't die  _unless we let it_." 

Bodhi moves from the chair to sit on the bed next to Chirrut. 

"I refuse to let it," he continues, quietly empassionate. "That's one of the reasons I'm doing this." He waves his hand vaguely between himself and Chirrut. "I remember the Order of the Whills from when I was little.  Not much, just that they, you,  _we_ , were there. I refuse to let another piece of Jedha die." 

"Chirrut," he goes on as he puts a hand on Chirrut's bare wrist. The sound of a child crying comes again to him. 

 _Oh_. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers as the pieces of what he heard moments ago suddenly falls into place. 

"For what? Having the courage of your convictions?" Chirrut says, with a levity that is clearly false. "You are passionate, little brother." 

"No but-" Bodhi looks away.  

He lets his grip tighten around Chirrut's wrist not quite knowing how to put his feelings into words. He doesn't feel guilty for his questions, but he wishes he had spoken less harshly. Chirrut seems so indomitable that he had forgotten the he too had been there on that day, as Baze had, as Bodhi had, and lived with the same experiences. And lived with the same grief that all Jedhans in the galaxy now does. 

" _Sifu_ , forgive me. I did not mean to hurt you." 

Chirrut puts his hand on top of Bodhi's. 

"There is no need for you to be so formal with me. If you seek my forgiveness, you have it. A student is right in asking questions." 

"But not at the expense of the teacher. I'm sorry." 

Bodhi wraps his arms around Chirrut's shoulders, hugging him tightly. Chirrut sits perfectly still for a second, then wraps his arms around Bodhi too. When he lets go of Chirrut again, Bodhi drops a brief kiss on Chirrut's cheek. 

"Careful, young one. I'm a respectable, married man." 

"Well, he's married," Baze says drily as he gently rubs Chirrut's shoulder and Chirrut's lips curls into a tiny, smile. 

Bodhi hadn't realized how tense the room had felt, how tense he himself had been until now when the tension is ebbing and fading away. 

"But do not stop asking question, Bodhi," Chirrut says. 

"You can direct some of those questions at me from now on though?" Baze interjects. 

"Baze, answering questions is not going to make me fall apart. I'm not fragile." 

"No, but you  _are_  wounded. We all are." Before Chirrut can make another protest Baze continues, cutting him off. "Bodhi, would you give us some minutes to ourselves. I think my husband and I need share some words. We will meet you at dinner." 

"Of course," Bodhi says and gets off the bed. "I'm sorry I started this." 

"You didn't. This talk has been some time in coming," Baze says as he leads him to the door. As they stop right in front of it he pulls Bodhi into a hug. "You have a good heart, little brother. Don't let it grow hard." 

"I won't," Bodhi promises, letting go of Baze. 

He steps out into the empty hallway and the door slides shut behind him. He makes his way for the hangar. While he has no more duties today there are always ships or speeders in need of maintenance there and he feels a need to work with his hands. His head is too full of thoughts, his heart still in turmoil. Working might not solve any of that, but it will give him something else to focus on for a while and he feels too tired right now, to think anymore. Finding answers to his questions will have to wait. 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Kasaya & antaravasaka_: Kasaya is apparently the canonically confirmed term for Chirrut's robe, but it is also the Tibetan word for a Buddhist robe. That would make the red "wrap around skirt" he wear an antravasaka. So those are the terms I've chosen to use. (I wish Star Wars wouldn't make such a cultural mess of things, but I feel I have to deal with the hand I've been dealt. Therefore this.)
> 
>  
> 
>  _Sifu_ : Chinese, means master. Respectful address.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated though I know I take forever to reply.


End file.
